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A Red Chrysler Sebring convertible is, apparently, my new escape from writing.


All this writing I’ve been doing, I forget there’s this world going on outside my front door.

So the same friend that got his house broken into several months ago comes over every Saturday to do laundry.

He calls me and says, “I’m just finishing up this paperwork on the new car, then I’ll go home and get my basket and be over.”

“Cool. Call me when you’re on your way over.”

He calls twenty minutes later. He’s all, “Meet me outside.”

I go outside. He pulls up in a red Chrysler Sebring convertible.

It’s little moments like these that I’d miss if my friends didn’t force me to take a break every now and then.

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